


See you later, Tommy

by TheAceOfVoid



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Dream SMP RPF, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mexican Dream treated as a serious character, Protective Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Protective Wilbur Soot, Resurrection, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Temporary Character Death, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), most likely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29865450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceOfVoid/pseuds/TheAceOfVoid
Summary: Tommyinnit dies not like a hero, not in a war or a battle or even a fun duel, but like a victim, from the hands of the man who has ruined his life.Wilbur does not wish to live again, however, he will consider it if it means protecting his little brother, maybe he can pull the others of the afterlife into it as well.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Ranboo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit
Comments: 17
Kudos: 459





	1. Afterlife

Tommy blinks awake to a deep black sky, cloudless and sunless but somehow light, the ground below him does not feel like grass or any material he’s ever felt before and he is submerged in about an inch of some sort of liquid,

He sits up, a distant, barely-present ache in his bones, what happened? Last time he checked he was in the stupid fucking prison with Dream, not wherever the fuck this was.

He looks down, the ground looks almost like water, though feels solid to the touch, it reflects his face back at him and he squints, bringing a hand up to touch his blood soaked hairline,

Oh, he died.

He remembers now, the feeling of Dream hitting him, begging Dream to stop, being grabbed by the hair and having his head slammed into the wall, hearing his own skull shatter.

“Tommy?” He hears someone say and looks behind him quickly, Wilbur standing a few paces away, ghostly face morphed into shock, “Why are you here?”

“I died big man,” Tommy says, chuckling weakly, “He got me, he fuckin got me,”

Wilbur walks forward in careful steps before breaking and running forward, hugging Tommy tight to his chest like if he lets go Tommy will be gone,

“No, no, you’re not supposed to be here yet!” Wilbur says, cursing every adult on that god-forsaken server, every god that ever let this be, himself for not protecting his little brother, for leaving too soon and now having him here even sooner,

“It’s okay,” Tommy mumbles into Wilbur’s shoulder, realizing the wetness on his face is not only blood but also tears, “I’ve been living on borrowed time for a while now anyways,”

Wilbur sobs into Tommy’s shoulder, clutching his brother as tight as he can, as close as he can.

Tommy does not know when he also starts crying, sobbing into Wilbur’s shoulder as Wilbur rubs soothing circles into his back like he did when Tommy got sick as a child,

Tommy would never be a sick child being comforted again, he will never take a breath or feel his heart beat in his chest when he runs for a long time or feel the elation of flying in the sky with a trident,

He clenches onto Wilbur harder as he cries at that, babbling incoherent explanations of how Dream killed him, how he heard his own bones snap and the sound of his skull caving in, how the vision in one of his eyes went before he did, how he begged him to stop,

Wilbur listens to him through it, stopping crying before he does to instead comfort, cooing softly at him and rocking back and forth slowly, even though the action barely processes, everything feels numb and distant.

He eventually stops crying after what feels like hours, instead just laying in Wilbur’s arms, he wasn’t tired, or hungry, or cold or hot, he wasn’t anything anymore, in death.

“Come on, let’s go see the others,” Wilbur says softly, helping him onto his feet and putting a supportive hand on his shoulder,

“Like Schlatt?” He asks, blinking around at the empty surroundings,

“And Mexican Dream, and some others, but they don’t talk much,” Wilbur states, leading Tommy carefully through the void, Tommy wonders how Wilbur knows where they’re going, but maybe he doesn’t.

Eventually he hears conversation in the distance, straining to hear it as he sees figures in the distance, slowly fading into hazy view, apparently there is fog here, but he can’t see it past the endless void,

Schlatt is leaning against,,,, something, bottle in hand and it makes Tommy cringe at the memories as he looks up, seeming a bit surprised, “Oh, hey kid,”

“TOMAS!” He hears a familiar voice shout and looks around until he sees the familiar green blob,

“MEXICAN DREAM!” Tommy yells back, running towards the man and all but launching himself at him, 

“Eyy man! I haven’t seen you since exile man!” He says, Tommy is almost a bit surprised that he returns Tommy’s hug,

Tommy laughs softly, holding back a wince at the mention of exile, “Yeah, yeah, how’ve you been man? How’s the afterlife,”

Mexican dream laughs, setting Tommy down fully on the floor, Tommy resists the urge to throw himself back into the contact, it is one of the only things he can feel here, “It sure is the afterlife, man! Not much to do around here besides drugs and talking to these losers!”

“Hey, you’re not too fucking fun to talk to either,” Schlatt snaps with a strange lack of venom, it is almost more uncomfortable than if he had the bitterness he had while he was alive,

“Why are you here kid? We thought you wouldn’t be here for a while,” Schlatt asks, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand,

Tommy resists the urge to shake as Mexican Dream lets go of him, frowning, “Dream fuckin’ got me, beat me to death in prison,” He hisses, forcing out rage instead of sorrow, both exist in equal portion inside him, so it’s easy,

Schlatt and Mexican Dream both wince, “Fuck man,” Mexican Dream says, Tommy refuses to think of the little shake in his normally casual tone, “That sucks man,”

“It’s fine, guess he can’t hurt me anymore,” Tommy says, sitting down on the floor, the feeling of water under him still exists, but strangely it doesn’t feel wet, he can hover over it easily, guess thats just Phantominnit Perks, “What is this place anyways, Hell? Heaven?”

“The afterlife, think of it what you want, it’s all there is,” Wilbur states simply, sitting down next to him, “Others come through sometimes, though usually they have faded from the centuries here,”

Tommy nods, looking around at the empty landscape, “So what do you guys do here,”

“Drugs.”  
“Competitive Solitaire.”

Wilbur glares at MD who is smiling mischeviously at him,

“Come on Wilby, you started a drug empire you can’t be mad at those who buy,” Tommy defends, laughing softly,

Wilbur whips his head over at the nickname, a look of absolute delight on his face, “You called me Wilby again,”

Tommy flushes, “Fuck off, bitch,” He hisses,

Wilbur chuckles, summoning a deck of cards from nowhere, “So, here is how you play,” He starts, setting out the cards as Tommy watches.

Dream stares down at the bloodstains and mangled corpse, a deranged smile on his face as he hears the clicking of the Lava lowering.

He looks over, seeing Sam staring across the lowering Lava, a look of horror clear even behind the mask,

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Sam screams, hands balled into fists at his side, “HE WAS A CHILD, YOU SAID YOU NEEDED HIM ALIVE!”

Dream chuckles softly, the sound transforming and turning into wheezing laughter, struggling to even breath through his own laughing,

He finally killed that brat, maybe he can’t even bring him back without the book and he’ll have to wait for a bit, that’d probably suck, but it’s worth it for the warm, sticky blood covering his fists and front, splattered across his porcelain white mask.

Sam is still screaming, voice becoming increasingly shaky with sorrow, before finally lowering the lava again and stomping off, leaving Dream with his manic laughter and an unrecognizable corpse.


	2. Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After centuries of immortality and no ties to those who can die, Philza has forgotten how to grieve.
> 
> Techno never expected him, the eldest whose mind screams for violence and bloodshed, who has been in too many wars to remember, to be the last brother alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written before the most recent syndicate stream on 3/6/2021, so it is not canon compliant.

A drawback to ageless, infinite life is that Philza seems to have forgotten how to mourn properly, centuries spent with no attachments, floating from place to place, giving blesses and curses in equal amounts, that when he gets a little family of his own, he thinks that when they’re gone he won’t mind,

Maybe he wouldn’t mind if the first to die wasn’t so young, he is an adult, Phil knows that, but he still had many, many years to live, ripped away by a thirst for power and no support from those who could’ve helped,

He sees the tragedy in his other son’s eyes and knows that they tried in their ways, but none knew what to do, how to deal with this.

His eldest is only a few minutes older than the one who died too young, raised for bloodshed but not to pull one away from it, he didn’t know how to make Wil stop.

The younger two aren’t even adults yet, children with a few too many scars and who flinch a little too much at loud noises, he hears their cries of terror as Wil explodes what they worked so hard to get back. He knows they collapse against each other as he drives his son's own sword through him, snuffing out his life much too soon.

Techno rages in his grief and Phil does not try to stop him, too preoccupied with mourning the first thing he’s lost in millenia, he allows himself a moment to hold his son and cry.

His son’s last words were ‘Kill me Phil’, that hurts like nothing else ever has, he can’t even feel the pain of his broken, burned wings over his sorrow.

His youngest’s exile was not something he particularly enjoyed, but he just put it off as actions having consequences, and a few weeks away from everyone won’t do him too bad, maybe he’ll even have time to deal with everything that happened.

That, is what Phil thought

Until Tommy comes back, more scarred than ever, hearing slightly worse, wounds from explosions not even fully healed yet, eyes not blue anymore but a deep pitch black, not black like the color, but black like the absence of it. 

Phil only learns later that for a time everyone thought Tommy to be dead, he wonders why he was never told of his own son's possible death, did they not want to harm him, were they waiting for a good time? Or did they think he didn’t care, he knows at least that Tubbo knows that they’re family, hell, Tubbo was basically a son to him as well.

Seeing Tommy alive again, he almost looks dead, and in hushed conversations with Techno he begins to think that exile was much, much worse than anyone thought.

He doesn’t even have time to try to pull an explanation of what happened out of Tommy before the war against L’manberg starts and Tommy betrays them, leaving his family for the ones who exiled him into whatever hell that was.

Techno rages, going out for hours every night in the following days to kill mobs until the voices finally subside, once or twice he falls into Phil’s arms, crying like he did when he was a small child and not a warrior.

The battle is bloody, to call it a ‘battle’ is a bit too nice, it is a slaughter as an uncountable amount of withers are spawned, destroying the country that ruined their family to nothing but bedrock and smoke.

Techno finds a book during the battle, dropped by Quackity in his panic, labelled in scrawled, blocky text along the spine ‘DO NOT READ’

He returns it to it’s rightful owner, a tall enderman hybrid named Ranboo, only a bit older than Phil’s youngest.

It is a bit after the slaughter that he tells Phil about it, in the nonchalant way that makes Phil know it’s something he actually cares about, and says that MAYBE the kid could join the arctic, if he wants.

Phil does not like how he finds the hybrid teen, tear-like scars just a bit deeper and open with burns, he has been a father long enough to notice the tremble in the boy’s fingers, the way his voice shakes and his tail lashes anxiously at his ankles.

He agrees to move in with them, old house nothing but a few planks at this point.

Ranboo was always a good neighbor, a good kid, reminded Phil a lot of Techno, a bit of a pushover but kind and Phil is sure if the kid actually held a sword he’d be dangerous with it.

Phil promises himself that IF (when) he adopts this child he won’t use it as a way to replace the ones he is missing, the ones dead and who betrayed him, Ranboo is his own person, and Phil promises to see him that way.

Ranboo is jumpy, they learn quickly, he gets anxious easily and has trouble saying ‘no’ and is deadset on repaying them.

So they adapt, learn to take smaller things, like some extra food on a trip when they run out or a few ‘illegal’ blocks that Ranboo can get using his enderman powers so that he doesn’t feel the need to give them bigger gifts,

They learn that every few months the scars on his cheeks get just a little deeper and they are nice to him those days when they notice, especially when they’re new.

When Ranboo one day leads them to his little shack and admits that he burnt down the community, that he had once of Tommy’s precious discs, the marks on his cheeks still open with burns, both fall back onto acting like neither matter, because neither really do, to a blood god and an angel of death.

Neither think that Ranboo particularly likes their answers, with the tight-lipped look he gives them and the way he ends up chuckling it off, but he does not panic further, which helps them know they made at least close to the right decision.

Both are sitting at the table doing their own things, Techno reading through ‘The Art of War’ while Phil wittles at a piece of wood when they hear anxious knocking at the door,

It isn’t frantic, but it is stuttery in the way they can tell that something bad happened, and both give eachother a look before Phil rises to answer it,

Ranboo stands at the doorway, looking so similar to he did after L’manberg fell, the tears on his cheeks are worse though, eyes still watery and frantically blinking away tears, arms clutched tightly around himself,

“Oh mate, what’s wrong?” Philza asks softly, going instantly into dad mode over the clearly sad teenager trembling before him,

“S-Something bad happened, can I come in?” Ranboo asks, voice shaking,

“Of course, come on in,” Phil says, opening the door further so that Ranboo can enter, he wonders if the shivering is from the cold (he notices that Ranboo’s suit jacket is missing) or if it is from panic, 

Ranboo stumbles over to the table, an extra seat has made its permanent place at it, meant for when Ranboo visits, he sits down in it and curls up with his knees to his chest, a bad sign,

Phil goes back to his seat, keeping himself from doting, knowing it’d probably make Ranboo panic worse,

“What happened?” Techno asks, voice gruff but concern still in it, both know that Ranboo has panic attacks, that he has his enderwalk state, but Ranboo actually reaching out for help with those things is pretty rare, and seeing him next to tears is not something either have dealt with before besides when he first arrived to the little commune,

“I-, Tommy-” Ranboo pauses, taking in a deep shaky breath into his stuttering chest, “You know Dream is in the prison, right?”

Both nod, it was pretty big news across the server, both wanted to show up to help their family, Phil’s sons and Techno’s brothers, but Techno still has that favor to Dream, and feared if he showed than he would have to help the man,

“T-Tommy visited him, about a week ago, and a security threat happened, I don’t know much, so he was locked in for a bit to make sure he wasn’t helping Dream escape,” Ranboo says, stuttering through the words, clearly struggling to force them out,

“Is that why you’re panicking? Did Tommy help Dream escape or somethin’?” Techno asks, 

Ranboo shakes his head, “Tommy- Tommy never left the prison,” He says, voice shaking through it, words difficult to make out,

“Is Sam keeping him there?” Phil asks, voice deathly serious, he knows what Ranboo is saying, what he is implying, but he hopes to every god that he is mistaken because he can’t lose another son,

“No, Dream- Dream beat Tommy to death, he’s dead, he’s not coming back,” Ranboo says, tears finally escaping his eyes and flooding down his cheeks, scorching the already there burns, “He’s not coming back,”

Both stare in horror, shock, Tommy can’t be dead, Tommy wouldn’t die like that, and yet he did, and yet he died in a prison they didn’t even know he was in.

“No, no that’s not it, Tommy can’t die,” Techno argues, usual monotone shaken, 

Phil laughs weakly, a nervous response, “Yeah, yeah Tommy is fine, it’s probably just one of his pranks,”

“No, Tommy- Tommy is dead, I saw- I saw the message,” Ranboo stutters out, a few more tears burning down his cheeks,

Techno puts his face in his hands, furiously fighting back the urge to cry, book now long forgotten.

He wants to rage, wants to scream and wants to rip Dream to little shreds, shouts of ‘You wanna be a hero Tommy? THAN DIE LIKE ONE!’ echo in his head, he never got to say goodbye to his little brother, he never thought he, who had been in so many wars and spilled much more blood, done so much worse than the other two, could’ve been the last alive. 

Phil puts a hand over his mouth, tears spilling down his cheeks. He has lost all but one son, Tubbo is still alive, he guesses (He hopes), but Tubbo was always more Tommy’s family than any of theirs, Tommy’s other half. Tommy was dead, Tommy would never come and scream and annoy Techno until he chases him around again, would never dig through their things for gapples and regen potions and any other shiny thing he can find. Tommy would never be again.

“Th-Thank you for telling us, mate,” Philza manages out, voice cracking, “I think you should go back to your house,”

Ranboo nods, standing up, “I’m so sorry,” He whispers, looking at both of them with such sorrow that Phil wonders what Tommy and Ranboo’s bond was, he never saw them talk, but thinking about them together made him think they were close, a friend of Tubbo’s must’ve been a friend of Tommy’s.

A friend of Tubbo’s will never be a friend of Tommy’s again.

He starts crying, at some point Techno comes to collapse into his arms, he is not crying, not yet, Techno never cried immediately after grief, he didn’t with Wilbur or the million pets he attached himself to, but he is tired and he pleads in a soft, not-so-monotone voice for it not to be true, for him not to be the last,

Phil has nothing to answer him with.

Who thought immortality could be so lonely.


	3. Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy explores the Void for a while, seeking out other faded, dead players and playing games of solitaire with Wilbur.

Death is not as lonely as Tommy thought.

He spends much of his first days after he manages to detach himself from the others wandering the void.

If he looks for something he can find it, and if he focuses he can summon small items, the time he manages to summon a disc is exciting until he realizes he can’t summon a jukebox to use it, but just the familiar vinyl is calming.

There are others in the void, most faded and barely-there, they come in groups most of the time, not wandering far from each other. After long enough in the void areas that aren’t just the pitch black can form apparently, a few towns and a mansion with a masquerade.

There is an empty town with no one in it, no sign of anyone ever living there. It holds the only thing that produces light in the afterlife, even though it isn’t really ‘dark’, he can see everything easily, like shadow does not exist, but there are no torches or lanterns and all he summon are just bright in concept, they do not cast light upon him. The town has a flame in the middle on top of a building, it produces warmth and light unlike everything else, so he returns to it often in his first days of wandering.

There is a village much more full, though he stays away when possible due to how much of their time seems to be spent arguing, stuck in their roles from life.  
There is a man and a child in the village who stay together, and both are quite nice, apparently the man (‘catboy’) does not mind the bleakness of the afterlife as he is blind, so he can’t really see the difference. Robin, an orphan child, stays near him, still stuck in sorrow from the man dying in the first place, apparently they were executed a day after each other.  
There is Helga and Jimmy, a married couple who are funny but their conversations often turn into arguments that make Tommy’s breath get a bit shaky, so he leaves them alone.  
There is Miles, a ‘Connoisseur of steak’, Tommy doesn’t speak to him much, but he is not the worst in the village.  
There is a builder named Bob, he does not speak much and Tommy does not seek him out, however he seems to spent his time trying to fix the village, a respectable thing to spend the afterlife doing.  
Then there is Cornelius, who looks so much like Dream it’s almost uncanny, Tommy does not know anything about him, as soon as he saw him he turned and ran, and has not been back to the village since.

There is the group with the masks in the mansion.  
A piglin hybrid like Techno, though hair a bit paler and wearing more golden adornments, trailed by a nervous butler who never speaks.  
An old? man in a fox mask.  
A buff man with a mask in the shape of a half moon, he is nice if a bit sad.  
‘Lord Sebastian’, who is quite a pompous prick even in death.  
A woman in a light blue gown.  
‘Drew’, who reminds him of Mexican Dream, and Tommy almost fears the chaos if they meet each other.  
Sometimes a man with pale white hair and a green mask is with them, but Tommy avoids him like the plague, too reminiscent of the man he saw last before death.

The group that he dubs ‘the cowboys’, a group of bandits that try to mug him even in death and he plays along by summoning a few gold coins, smiling when they run off yelling happily with the coins.  
There is a bartender in a pub, who is kind and around his age, other people who aren’t adults are thankfully rare, so he spends a few days with ‘John John’, though Tommy still thinks the name is fake.  
There is William who runs a shop, even though the items blink in and out of existence, no one buys anything but people come through, it is easier to summon things inside the building apparently.  
Then there is the sheriff, who Tommy avoids, the man doesn’t seem too kind.  
Ron Ronson, whose wife is a chicken on a lead and talks like a robot.  
Percy, who runs a bank and spends all of his energy to summon gold for the vault.  
Then there is Crops, who was apparently a cannibal in life but stays hidden away in the void, Tommy only runs into him once, exchanging few words before wandering away from each other.

After he gets sick of wandering the void he goes back to his own group, Schlatt and Mexican Dream are counting back and forth the seconds, apparently he’s already been in here for a week, the thought is comforting, Dream probably would’ve brought him back by now, so there is no need to worry, he was right.

Wilbur plays a few more games of competitive solitaire, winning every time, Tommy feels a strange lack of anger over it, he guesses that in the afterlife everything is dulled anyways, emotions distant and forgotten.

“Hey Schlatt, do you know anything about a revival book?” He asks, cutting off the ram hybrid from where he was counting, MD and him had switched to counting in spanish a bit ago so it’d be less annoying,

“Oh, that stupid book? Yeah I know about it, surprised it hasn’t been used yet,” Schlatt says, taking a swig from his whiskey bottle, “I think Dream had it last, but if he’s in prison now doesn’t matter anyways,”

“Wait, it’s real? So it works?” Tommy asks, for the first time since he joined the afterlife feeling actual fear like an icicle in his chest,

“Quite real kid, I was gonna use it to bring myself back but then I got here and I thought, eh, what’s the point? I was a shitty dude in life, why not just chill in the afterlife? I think if I came back I’d be killed again anyways,” He says, shrugging his shoulders,

Tommy’s hands tremble, dropping his cards onto the nonexistent floor, Wilbur looking at him in worry, “Oh my god, oh my god it’s _real_ ,”

“Are you okay Toms?” Wilbur asks, voice worried as he reaches out slowly, Tommy flinching back from the touch,

“No, no, he’s gonna bring me back, oh my god he’s gonna bring me back,” He says, shaking all over, hands coming up to clutch his hair, feeling the sticky blood that never goes away from his hairline and one of his eyes, 

“Fuck, the kid’s having a panic attack,” Schlatt hisses, getting up to kneel next to Tommy, far enough that he won’t scare enough but close enough he could touch Tommy by reaching out,

“Hey kid, look at me, okay?” Schlatt says, voice shockingly soothing compared to the man he was when he was alive, and Tommy snaps his gaze up, whimpering softly,

“It’s okay kid, you’re in the afterlife, nothing can hurt you here, alright?” Schlatt says, reaching out very slowly, so Tommy can pull away if he wants, and placing a grounding hand on Tommy’s shoulder, keeping his touch light enough to shove off,

Tommy whimpers again but leans into the contact, bubbling, lava-colored tears going down from his eye destroyed by an obsidian wall in a prison he never left,

“Y-you don’t understand, if he can bring me back he’ll hurt me again, it will be like exile it- I don’t wanna go back, I don’t wanna see his fucking face again or hear him speak I fucking can’t-” Tommy wheezes, if breathing still existed he would probably be struggling to do so, but there is no air to breath and his organs are still anyways,

“Tommy, Tommy, listen to me,” Wilbur says, kneeling on his other side, “If he brings you back, you get him to bring me back, okay? Do not fucking ask him to, don’t beg him to bring me back, do the opposite, I need you to tell him to never, EVER fucking bring me back, you need to make him think that I’m horrible, worse than him, and he’ll bring me back and than I will fucking flay him for you, okay?”

Tommy nods shakily, leaning into Wilbur’s hold as arms are wrapped around him,

“Promise me Tommy, promise me if he brings you back you will do that. Please,” Wilbur next to begs, blue tears dripping down his cheeks,

“I promise, I promise,” Tommy says, rocking slightly in Wilbur’s hold,

Wilbur nods, holding his brother tighter in his arms, “I am gonna fucking rip that bastard into pieces,” He hisses, though none of the anger is directed at Tommy, if anything his grip seems ever kinder,

“He said he was my friend Wilbur, He- He said I was fun, he wouldn’t even burn my goddamn discs, because it’d ruin the fucking fun,” Tommy says, sobbing softly with the words, “He wanted to kill Tubbo, he almost did- Fuck,”

“It’s okay Toms, it’s okay,” Wilbur soothes, running a hand through Tommy’s hair, “When that bastard finally comes here we’ll make his life hell, okay?” 

“Yeah man! Gotta protect my homies!” Mexican Dream states, clapping Tommy on the shoulder, he manages to not flinch away from the contact, instead leaning into the comfort,

“Thank you guys, thank you,” Tommy says, smiling sadly, wiping lava like tears from his eyes, he doesn’t take the time to question them, it’s the afterlife, if Wilbur can cry and bleed Blue then he can have lava, it is befitting.

He spent so much of his life burning up inside with anger and happiness and guilt, maybe in death he can be burning inside too, in a much more literal sense.


	4. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade never dies, Technoblade fears death, Technoblade holds things close because he is scared of losing them, Technoblade wants his family back.
> 
> Tommy recieves a gift from the living world.
> 
> Wilbur has a plan to help his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not me finding a way to make the lava and water rising videos canon-
> 
> Also Wilbur mentioned making a solitaire arena in canon so the summoning places dynamic of the afterlife was just based on that.

Techno does not believe he was meant to the be last alive,

He isn’t the reckless one but he has been in so many more wars, more battles, more arenas than either of his brothers ever had, he can’t count how many times he’s had a sword to his throat and that’s only the times he remembers,

He should not have been the last sibling alive,

There is Tubbo of course, but he was never truly a brother, he was Tommy’s best friend, not two halves of a whole but a matching pair, Tubbo was not a brother, Tubbo was Tommy’s best friend, part of the family, but not Techno’s brother.

So why did Wilbur have to go, his twin, his brother, the one with a silver tongue, who did not like violence or armor or swords and definitely disliked training. Who preferred a quiet life with Tommy until he set off for this hell server, why him?

Wilbur’s death honestly, probably should’ve killed Techno, piglins never do well when their families die, especially siblings and _especially_ twins, if he wasn’t a hybrid he’d probably have died from the resulting sickness,

Instead, he was cursed to survive without his other half, the peace to his violence, the care to his disinterest, his brother, his twin.

He lashes out as soon as he sees Wilbur die, his twin in his father’s arms, bleeding out, he needs the place that caused this to happen to burn, he needs it all gone.

He still feels guilt that so much of his grief turned on the little brother that he should’ve been protecting, but refuses to apologize if Tommy doesn’t,

And Tommy doesn’t apologize.

The first time Wilbur visits he honestly thinks he finally died from grief, having dragged himself so far away to possibly die in the arctic in a house he is proud of but doesn’t have the warmth of a home, depressed enough the voices don’t sing for blood, too busy trying to convince him to eat, to sleep, to _breath_

The ghost just wanders in, in the yellow sweater that Techno hasn’t seen Wilbur in for so, so long, a blue stained slash over the stomach were he was stabbed,

The words he says are so simple, so utterly simple that Techno doesn’t know why it makes him collapse and start crying, he doesn’t know,

“Hello, I’m Ghostbur!”

Such simple words that hurt so much, because his brother is dead, but he is here, in ghostly monochromes, trying to comfort Techno as he sobs.

It hurts, more than Techno can explain, but he thinks Ghostburs presence, while so different from Wilbur’s, is the only thing that keeps him from dying, even though he is just as physical as chat, it helps more, and he heals.

He visits Tommy in exile, mostly to mock him if he’s honest but also out of worry, he disregards that Tommy is a bit skinnier, that he doesn’t have the best tools, that he looks so tired to just him being a spoiled brat that finally is learning to care for himself,

_He doesn’t like the betrayed look that Tommy sends his way as he leaves_.

He finds Tommy just standing around in his house a week or two later, speed walking past him and out into the snow, following around the stupid teenager and managing to corner him until he explains why he is there,

Tommy ran from exile apparently, and something about how he explains it makes Techno know that something is wrong, enough that he lets Tommy stay when he could kick him out into the unforgiving cold.

The betrayal stings after everything though, chat screaming so loud for blood that he can barely make out his own “i’m a person!”, loud enough that he can’t hear Tommy’s response.

He explodes the country again for taking another brother, for trying to take him. He does not care that his brother who betrayed him is a part of that country now, as far as he’s concerned Tommy is dead to him, another brother dead.

He hands a lost book back to a teen that reminds him so much of the two lost during the carnage, he has done nothing wrong personally as far as Techno’s concerned, the only thing that he’s ever seen him do wrong was being a part of the attempted execution, though he was less into it than any of the others, like he didn’t want to be there either, Techno can sympathize with peer pressure.

It’s probably the gaping wound in his chest from two family members lost that makes him tell Phil to ask the teen if he needs a place to stay the day after, he knows some part of him was looking for a replacement, but he likes what he got better than a replacement,

Ranboo isn’t like Tommy, sure they share some similarities, but they separate largely from there, Ranboo is softer spoken, he doesn’t jump to find trouble like Tommy does, he over prepares for things that never happen and doesn’t ever want to intrude and pays his debts tenfold.

Some part of Techno says that Ranboo reminds him of Wilbur, but no, Ranboo reminds him of himself when he was younger, before he learnt to hide weakness better, to hide awkwardness under acting like he doesn’t care and avoiding emotions like the plague.

Ranboo likes Tommy, he is quiet about it, apparently some respect for the shaky relationship that his neighbors have with him now, but he clearly doesn’t have the worst opinion on Tommy by how he speaks of him the few times he does,

Techno almost convinces himself that when Tommy comes and steals his stuff again and gets caught almost instantly, running and hiding in the same spot Techno hid him before, that he doesn’t kill Tommy because he knows Ranboo would be upset, and chat would yell at him, chat has always been fond of Tommy,

It definitely wasn’t his fondness that kept him from stabbing the blonde, no, he had no fondness for his not-brother, definitely not.

He stays away from the battle that Dream, Tubbo, and Tommy have even as others are rallied to fight against the homeless green blob that really does not intimidate Techno.  
He knows that if he showed up that Dream could cash in that favor, and he knows that he couldn’t raise a sword or an axe or a crossbow to his little brother or his little brother’s best friend to take their final lives, he knows he just couldn’t.

He’s just too busy to check his communicator until the event is already over, that’s it.

When Phil invites their neighbor into the house one day he knows something is wrong, everything on the server has been too quiet, not peaceful quiet, but quiet like something is wrong,

He knows something is even worse when he sees that Ranboo is crying, the burn scars under his cheeks reopened, 

Everything is distant and fuzzy as he hears the news, that his little brother is well and truly dead, gone, 

Maybe he told himself that Tommy was dead to him but he wasn’t, Tommy wasn’t dead to him, he betrayed him yes, and that still hurt even now, still made him suspicious and paranoid, but he thought at some point they’d reconcile, get over it, make amends.

He never even got to say sorry for stealing one of Tommy’s best friend’s lives, for blowing up his country (twice now), for trying to replace him with the teen now passing on the message of his death, for not being there when Wilbur was getting worse and for not helping when he was there.

He has failed as a brother and he pays the price of being the last son alive, maybe it’s fitting.

Technoblade never dies, Technoblade fears death, Technoblade holds things close because he is scared of losing them.

Technoblade wants his family back.

He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t deserve to cry, but he collapses into his fathers arms and begs, pleas, for it to not be true.

Phil has no answer.

“Hello Tommy!” John greets happily when he walks in, “Would you like a beere?”

“No, just water,” Tommy says, sliding onto one of the seats and catching the glass slid his way, nothing has taste in the afterlife, they have no need to eat or drink, but it feels right to do it anyways, old habits dying hard he guesses,

John smiles, leaning on the counter across from him, “So, how’s the afterlife going for you?”

“Pretty good, Wil is still beating me at solitaire,” Tommy says, complaining lightly, he’s pretty sure in life he’d have been angrier over that, he was always angrier while alive, he was getting better at it before the prison, before he died, he never got the chance to fully heal.

He doesn’t like thinking about that,

John snorts, “I don’t know how you’re so bad at it, isn’t solitaire mostly luck?” He asks, his accent makes him say ‘solitaire’ weird and Tommy politely doesn’t point it out,

“I don’t know either big man,” Tommy says and John smiles again, picking up a glass from behind the counter and a clean rag, wiping it, so stereotypical of a bar owner, if it wasn’t for the whited-out eyes and gunshot wound on his shoulder it might just be out of some midwestern movie,

“Hey, you have all the time in the world to get better,” John offers, “I sure got better at runnin’ my saloon, I have way more business now!”

“Maybe there are just more people in the afterlife than there were in whatever desert town you were in?” Tommy offers, taking a mock-sip of his water,

“Maybe,” John replies with a shrug, “But I like to think I have gotten better,”

“I’m sure you have big man,” Tommy says, startlingly sincere,

John smiles at him, it reminds him of Ranboo, a tiny bit more confident, more relaxed, they sound kind of similar too, “So, you have any plans?”

“Like what?” Tommy asks, “There’s not much to do here?”

“Well, when I first died I made my saloon” John says, gesturing at the saloon, people around in the background, gentle murmurs of ghosts, the soft humming of music from karaoke in the next room over, “Others created little worlds for challenges, I think Wilbur and Schlatt did one were water or lava rose until it hit the sky limit, they videotaped it so other ghosts could watch it, he also has his other challenge worlds,”

Tommy hums in acknowledgement, he was in a few of them, trying to ring a bell as many times as possible, fall as many blocks as possible without ‘dying’, he never really thought of making anything for himself,

“So, what would you bring here?” John asks, “If anything,”

“A bench,” Tommy answers without thinking,

“A bench?” John prompts further, “Like to sit on?”

“No a- a specific bench,” Tommy says, “I had a bench I sat on with my best friend, we listened to music discs together, I also had my house near it! I built it into a hill, a little shack, it survived a lot,”

John blinks and Tommy feels a bit like he’s being judged for his decision before John smiles at him, “I think that’s a good thing to bring here, Tommy, tell me when it appears, I think I can take a day off to visit, I have been working for over a thousand years now,”

Tommy chuckles, “Yeah, I’ll make sure to,” He replies before blinking, everything fades out of focus for just a second,

A voice familiar to John’s, was it John? John didn’t have that accent, says “Here Tommy, have a flower,” and he blinks back, looking around wildly to find an Allium laying in front of him on the bar counter,

“Oh, thought I lost you there,” John says, looking just as confused as him, “Was worried, you shouldn’t be fading yet,”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tommy apologizes, still staring at the oddly physical looking flower, “What happened?”

“Someone gave you a gift I guess,” John answers with a shrug, “I remember when I first died I got some, few gold coins from Percy, said it was ‘to pay him back’, some other things too but I put them all away for safekeeping,”

Tommy nods, picking up the flower slowly and spinning it in his fingers, staring at it in all different directions, the hundreds of tiny petals each so detailed in a way that no one could ever summon,

“I think I am gonna go big man, thanks for the water,” He says, standing up and tucking the Allium into his pocket carefully, summoning a gold coin and tossing it to him,

“Have a good day Tommy!” John calls as he walks out, “Tell the others they’re always free to visit, besides Schlatt, he’s trying to get clean!”

“Will do!” Tommy calls back, grinning to himself as he walks into the empty black void.

Wilbur slides into the saloon after Tommy fades from view, “Hello John,”

The bartender jumps, apparently not noticing his presence, “Oh, hey Wilbur,”

Wilbur smiles politely, “I wanted to ask you some things, unimportant, don’t worry,”

“Uh, okay?” He answers, “What do you need to know?”

“You are friends with Tommy, correct?” Wilbur asks, tilting his head,

“I’d like to think so?” John answers, fidgeting nervously, “I mean, he visits here a lot,”

Wilbur nods, “Would you like anything bad to happen to him?”

“No, no, of course not!” John answers immediately, 

“Can I trust you John?” Wilbur asks, folding his hands in front of him, staring the boy in the eyes, dead too young, _so is Tommy_.

“Of course, I think,” He answers honestly, not breaking the eye contact,

“Someone very dangerous is planning on bringing Tommy back, he wants to harm him,” Wilbur says almost casually, though a certain anger is under his words, “You and I both know Tommy doesn’t belong here, but I also do not want him to be hurt further,”

John nods, he knows that Tommy wasn’t quite dead on the best of terms, but more than that he is just a bit too attached to the living world to be comfortable, a bit too physical, he put it off as just not fading yet but he has seen others just dead and that is not what Tommy looks like, Tommy was not meant to be here.

“I am planning on having myself brought back so that I can end the person who hurt my little brother,” Wilbur states, “but, if it takes a bit for me to come back, I need the afterlife to be worse for him than for anyone else, I want him to fucking _suffer_.”

John nods, shockingly he doesn’t look too disturbed by the words, growing up seeing people constantly shot or even worse eaten alive will do that to a person, however further than that he knew that if Wilbur was this angry at someone for hurting Tommy then they must’ve done something bad.

“I have a bit of a plan that I haven’t told Tommy about but I need other ghosts for it besides just me and you, can you do that for me?” Wilbur asks, struggling to keep his voice from pleading, because he needs to help his little brother so, so bad, he needs to.

John nods seriously, a sort of determined look in his eyes, shoulders more squared, more dangerous, “I will do whatever you need me to,”

“Good,” Wilbur replies, chipper but just as sharp, just as dangerous, not a threat to each other but to whoever thought of harming Tommy, “Good.”


End file.
